Darkening Skies
by Vardus Libron-Dark God
Summary: I don't want to  ruin the surprise, but suffice it to say that Eragon is a tad older.  Not as evil as my other fic, but kind of dark and is violent.  E&A, Murtagh, and A is a Rider.  ProbablyM for violence and torture, etc.
1. Chapter 1

The Darkening Skies

A/N Okay, this is a concept chapter. Basic idea, gets out the setting.

I stood. The air around me was thick with incense and the smell of blood. Sickening fluids, evil in a flowing, oozing, form swirled around me. A blade stuck out of the ground. It was long and sharp. Very sharp. The beast in front of me backpedaled furiously as I approached. A switchblade appeared in my hand. Its razor edge extended twelve inches from the pommel. My proper blade lay on the ground twelve meters away.

The beast swung up, its knife clashing into my arm and sending me flying back. It swung down furiously, and I knew it was impossible for even me to block. So instead I pulled out my semi-automatic and blew him backwards towards my vehicle. Said "vehicle" shredded him into a large number of tiny pieces. Saphira growled affectionately, and I clambered to my dragon's side.

I am Eragon Shadeslayer. I am Argetlam. I am Firesword. And I am almost four thousand years old.

A/N:Well, what do you think? R&R.


	2. Chapter 2

Darkening Skies Chapter Two

Author's Note:Okay, so, to clarify, Eragon survived the climatic final with Galbie, and it is now approxiately the present day, or at least within a century. I did not have a long chapter last time as I had exactly five minutes to write that. Sorry. Now for the review.

E1venl0rd: Yes it was rather short, I realize. However, I can help with the rest. He is now on the same landmass as Alagaseia, but it is set in the present day. In fact, he was in Kuasta. Also, his "vehicle" was his dragon, Saphira. The gun is simply sensible when you waltz into a high-crime area.

_**Read and review.**_

Tequila and Lead

Saphira swooped away from Kuasta City, now a thriving metropolis. You have no idea how hard it is to take off from the slum district without killing a grandma putting her clothes out to dry. Still, you had to do what you had to do. I, Eragon, looked down at the apartment he had trashed. Well, the Shade would live, but a bullet in the face never feels very good.

I realize that some of you may wonder who and what I am. I understand, for I write this for those not of this land.

It has been almost 4000 years since I was born. I am Eragon Bromsson, the Impaler, and the Dragon Rider. I was a part of the Varden all those years ago, and I am one of the three of those who were part of the Varden that are still alive.

Above Uru^Baen I slew Galbatorix. There was the famous Impalement of Galbatorix carried out, an act some still deem mythical. In fact, some claim I must be a fake. Fools. Anyway, at the top of his castle I drove my blade though that dark king, and I cast him down at hundreds of miles per second as I set him aflame. There was the blow that killed Nausada, leader of the Varden, struck. It clove her head from her body, and I stood, myself critically wounded, and fell as well, and would have died but for Saphira. 

In the short years immediately after the Impalement the first Emperor of the Three Kingdoms crowned. Orrin was the first, through a stroke of luck and political genius. As we all know, the Crown of The Empire was to pass between each of the three kingdoms. From Uru^baen to Ellesmera to Tronjenheim, every hundred years it changed.

Then, as we all know, the descendant of Orrin Salchandak Yollansson refused to pass on the Crown. It was stupid, really, as each kingdom was effectively an independent unit and the position of Emperor was always precarious enough that all were usually left in peace. Instead he marched on Du Weldenvarden. He was an idiot, you should know, for trying to kill me with a fire. I lived in Ellesmera at the time. To be honest, I enjoyed drowning him and his entire fleet in the Isenstar lake. Of course, it is rather hard to create a massive whirlpool, but the sight really is fascinating.

Then came the Partition, and so the kingdoms drew apart. I had a difficult choice then, whether to go back to the Broddring Kingdom or to stay with the elves. I believe that only one thing held me back, but it held me back all the same. Arya. She was presumably the next in line for the throne, and hence could not leave the elvish lands. As usual, I was wrong, due to complicate political matters I do not have the time nor inclination to explain. However, my actions in the last war, I found, did not endear me to the populace. Of course, the second I passed over the partition the elves started to invest in anti-air ballistas, and that meant no passage could be found that way. There was one choice, one that I have never regretted. Vroengard seceded from the Broddring Kingdom and became an independent state. We were not extended recognition by the ruling class for a little over a millenium, but only they were opposed to me in the first place, as the common man literally worshiped me.

It took almost four centuries to rebuild Vroengard. The first thing to do was to get a group of people to actually settle it, of course, but I got 800 magicians, artists, warriors, and scholars and about 1,200 farmers. Of course, it took over a century just to rebuild the library to the point at which it could hold some 500 books, all of which we had to hand copy from scrolls. Trust me, that is tedious work, and the scrolls had to be returned frequently.

We soon fortified the island. At the time cannons were a new invention, and were prohibitively expensive. However, we had enough gold stockpiled that we could afford 100. They still are mounted on the walls. Every chance we get we improve our defenses.

I just realized I haven't spoken to you yet about Elvar. Elvar is a green male dragon, and the mate of Saphira. Hatched for Arya, conveniently enough. He was a tad annoying at times, however, and constantly interrupted. Cheeky little dragon.

He and Saphira left three of their five eggs to the Dragon Rider's, as was traditional, and our efforts were, after the basic reconstruction of the island was finished, directed towards getting them to hatch.

Within three decades they hatched. Two hatched for elves, Yolinda, an elf, got Telemackles, and Nariem, another elf, got Mortalex. Morgan Yoricksson was the other Rider.

They were the first Dragon Riders I trained. Only one still lives, but his story is truly fascinating. I'll say more later.

After 1,010 years of hatred, the nobles forgot about their ancient feud. Some had lost any connection to the old king entirely. Regardless, I finally got to do my job. Which, I should tell you, I hate. I have no problem executing drug dealers, Shades, elvish mafiosos, and even their hired goons. However, I always hate killing the drug addicts who killed someone, the gangster who doesn't really want a life of crime. Still, I do my job.

More recently technology has slowly begun to elevate those who cannot utilize magic into the position of those who could. Anybody could tell you now of the Razac class nuclear bunker-buster that destroyed the Hadarac Hellbent's hideout or the new Shruikan Supersonic Fighters which completely overwhelmed the rogue Dragon Rider Morgan.

Morgan never did know when to stop fighting and when to run. Still, he probably bleew it up or did something like that at the end.

Well, there was my history. Now to the only good pub on Vroengard. Of course, all the students would be shocked to see me in the one area of town they are banned from visiting, but nothing helps a pressure headache like tequila and lead. The lead, of course, should be in midair.

A/N: Read and Review, people.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Life Probably Goes On

A/N: I apologize for my abysmally slow updates. I have had a rather crazy summer so far, and I have been trying to catch up on lost sleep, leaving little time for writing. No, Atra is not about to end, however when I reach chapter six I will continue normally with both. Here, I will write a filler in after finishing this.

READ AND REVIEW.

Naturally I intend to make this a rather violent chapter.

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I need a beta please.

READ AND REVIEW.

Now, here I will write up a tad about the answers to your questions.

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Morgan is a Rider, about three thousand years old. He is a rogue, and is one of three living beings allowed to cross the Partition.

READ AND REVIEW.

You know the Demilitarized Zone, the border between North and South Korea? For the Partition, imagine that, only with countries with the resources of the U.S. building the wall.

READ AND REVIEW.

The Razac class bunker-buster and the Shruikan Supersonic Fighter are nuclear bunker-busters and air

superiority fighters, respectively.

READ AND REVIEW.

Okay, back to the story. Oh, and yes, magic can still make a fighter go boom. The change in viewpoint

is from information obtained later.

READ AND REVIEW.

Morgan stood and dusted off his jacket. He liked his jacket. It was about four hundred years old, and solid leather. In fact, the leather was a tanned human skin with an interior lining of silk and feathers. He had bought it while Eragon and the other fools still wore armour. Mobility helps more than defense these days. His gun, a ridiculously oversized .999 pistol that never left his side, lay strapped in a shoulder holster. It was a six shot.

He looked at the planes and blinked. The squadron was heading towards him, bullets whipping from the lead's minigun. Twelve thousand rounds smashed into the ground around Morgan.

He sadly muttered one word.

"Thrysta."

The bullets stopped and reversed direction with five times the speed they had left the barrel. They smashed the fighter's sub-sonic wingmates out of the sky. The missile struck, blasting a huge crater into the earth. Red clay spun away from the ground, leaving a cloud of debris. Morgan stumbled out, cursing.

"Damn it. Why the hell did it have to be explosive? This is why you have to make sure you follow later developments and-. Oh shit.

The fighter came by for another pass. The astonished pilot gasped. His target was bleeding from the ears and his jacket was somewhat scorched. His hair, usually a menacing shade of Grey, was stained with soot. But he was definitely very alive. His heart was beating, his lungs were filling, and he was speaking while pointing his hand at the plane.

"Brinsingr."

The plane seemed unaffected. Then the carnage began. First to go was the flight engineer. He was trying to check to see if anything had happened to the generator, as it was unusually warm. When he opened the small hatch enough flame to incinerate anything was unleashed. Meanwhile the pilot was trying to deal with the fact that the engines had caught fire, that there was a fuel leak, and that the yoke had blown his hand off at the wrist when it exploded, and that he cockpit had melted around him. However, the fire had not yet killed him. He lost his hand, causing shock, and so could only weakly scream in horror as the melted metal closed around him. The gunner burned alive from the inside, bone charring into a fused, blackened mass while his nerves and fat began to catch fire. Morgan turned.

"About time. Hurry up. I almost had to walk."

"_And without me you would have died halfway there while being attacked along the Partition."_

"_Shut up."_

"_You're welcome"_

"_This is why I wish __**my **__dragon had survived."_

"_You think that either of us are happy that they died?"_

"_Let's go. Now."_

I wandered out of the Stranger's bar aimlessly. I tried to think, then stopped. Thinking hurt. Actually, my entire body hurt even if I didn't think. My options were as followed.

one of those overpriced and entirely illegal rooms above the bar. I wasn't supposed to even know they existed, of course, but I hear better than most even while drunk on everclear, and so I suppose they talked more freely than they should. Hence I could toss down some money and get some sleep until I was sober. Although, come to think of it, I would have one heck of a headache.

I could probably lodge with Murtagh Morzansson, but that would be difficult. For a start, it is almost impossible to guess when he was at the ranch. Trust me, it is quite difficult to manage a Felundost ranch. Takes years of practice, according to him. I usually import the Felundost wool, and milk, and occasionally meat for celebrations. You get hardened to death after killing for almost 4,000 years, and these days it is a necessity to import some meat for the humans(and some non-traditional elves) among us. I'm personally against eating meat in large quantities, but whatever floats your boat.

Additionally, he was about 400 miles away, and Saphira was already back in the dragonhold. I could borrow one of the planes, but my piloting was mediocre at best, and terrible far more often. You know, Murtagh would probably not have any room either. Stupid small ranches

Well, in theory I could get home. This may seem simple seeing as home is about 8 miles away. There is one problem, however. I was drunk. Very, very drunk. And there are approximately twenty miles between the Stranger's Bar and the capital of Vroengard. And even assuming that I survived the trip through the backstreets of the off-limits section there would be... trouble, you could say, when I got home. Suffice it to say that Arya is rater annoyed when I arrive home drunk, and that is putting it mildly. Hence that might be classified under the heading "Bad Ideas".

Well, in the end I chose the latter of the three options. I managed to wander most of the way home when I passed the school checkpoint and realized something extremely worrying. This was where it had happened. I was drunk, but this was as clear as always.

It was where they had died. It was little known, but this was where it had happened. It was where Morgan became an outcast and murderer. It was what started my darkest nightmare all those years ago.

Morgan was my star student. I never knew how he managed to, but he easily outpaced and outskilled even the most skilled elvish students, even though he was only human. Still, he had one failing. He as arrogant, far to proud in his strength.

However, despite his scorn for the majority of the other students he still had one actual emotion. He was madly in love with Yolinda, the rider of Telemackles. Whether or not Yolinda actually loved him was just as obvious. They were not originally intended to graduate together, but a tad of consultation with the only elvish(and just only) co-manager(Arya) we allowed them to graduate together and become full riders. It was the worst mistake of my life.

They were brilliant, but again there was a snag. You see, by now several other Riders had, for various reasons, been promoted. You see, while Morgan could probably of killed me even before he made his final choice, he was only powerful enough for one person. Yolinda had some difficulty using any considerable force mentally. Morgan is, and was, a mental hammer wielded by the Roran-Hulk. Yolinda was more a tongue depressor. Useful, but weak in any field beyond an extremely limited area of effectiveness.

It was difficult for even me to spar with Morgan. I physically outclassed him, of course, but in skill with his sword and mind were incredible. His dragon was also skillful to the point of near-impossibility for its age. But the worst part was that his mind, whenever he was experiencing any strong emotion or was feeling pain or pleasure, or anything else, for that matter, his mind would practically assault you. It was insanity, pure insanity. Eventually you would acclimatize to the pressure, and would become somewhat better with your defenses too, but for a while it must have been excruciating.

Then, to complicate matters still further, there was Nariem. He was, as I mentioned, the second Rider found. He was also the most jealous person I knew at the time, though some others I will mention have since stolen the prize. He hated Morgan from the start, and never could stop thinking that he was some insignificant arse who knew nothing beyond the very basics. Then he found out about Mogan and Yolinda. I think it broke him, pushed him over the edge.

I had no idea what he intended to do. That is my only defense. There are things I could have done, things I should have done, but I really had no idea. It was not my fault that he was sent insane./ he knew what else he could have done, he knew about other options.

He got revenge in the cruelest way possible.

He had initially intended, I am sure, just to kill Morgan. However, he realized that that was all but impossible for practically anyone. He made a bargain, one that I would never want to contemplate. He made a deal with a shade. Together they were still incapable of killing Morgan, and so that demonic coalition grew. I never knew quite how, but they managed to even get him. He was not supposed to be alive anymore by all the laws of the world. I don't really wan to know how he survived. You don't want to know who he is, either. Suffice it to say that he was a lunatic with a grudge against the Riders. I had thought him long dead.

He directed them to hurt Morgan. They did, alright. They manipulated me. I had heard tell of him, the one I avoid speaking of, and dispatched Morgan to slay this threat, accompanied by Nariem. However, Yolinda, against my will and without my knowledge, accompanied them. Nariem had not planned for one thing. Namely, the utter and complete hatred of the beings he had hired towards the Riders. They arrived and were ambushed. Nariem escaped, running swiftly away and telling his dragon to do the same in the sky. Yolinda was chopped down in the first hour. After that the only onee I captured had quite a tale to tell./ Morgan, they said, singlehandedly routed twenty Shades, leaving only one on the field of battle. In the end even Morgan lost. His dragon swooped down and smashed Morgan out of the way of the thrice cursed blade. After I had defeated its wielder in Farthen Dur I had believed it destroyed. It struck the noble dragon Heriolomanx, and turned its blood to ice, and its body to cinders. Telemackles struck the Shade, Durza's old friend and onetime ally. He collapsed, but the talon pierced his brain before his heart. We never knew this, however. Morgan dragged himself home with Telemackles's help.

When he returned he swore an oath. He swore to slay not only me, but also Nariem for his cowardice. He swore to briing to justice all who had done wrong, and became a greater monster than any. He began the second first, with the help of Telemackles.

He found Nariem first. He slitted his throat at night, as he always would try to do. Whenever stealth was simplest, he used stealth. Whenever strength was simplest he used strength.

He tried to kill me at that checkpoint. A firebolt struck the ground in front of me. Morgan drew his twelve foot long swords. Each weighed approximately one ton, however when Morgan wielded them they weighed as much as a feather for him. I simply nodded to Arya and drew my sword. In seconds he was disarmed, as he then was weakened from battle and murder. Arya and I had learned of Nariem's death. When he was at my mercy then I should have killed him. Instead, I let him live and banished him from Vroengard. Again, all that he has done since is my fault.

A/N:Enjoy!

AND PRESS THAT SHINY BUTTON!


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